


The Goddess of Secrets

by DeaInTheMachina



Series: The Goddess of Secrets [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2019-09-05 22:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16819426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeaInTheMachina/pseuds/DeaInTheMachina
Summary: *Note: If you haven't read the Prologue: Footfalls of Destiny, please do before you keep going. I know it's short, but there's information in there that sets this up and will be important as things progress!*Allow me to first apologize to anyone who has a male, Trevelyan, warrior Inquisitor named Markus. I had to go with a world state that was the opposite of anything I would create, and that meant creating a, uh, jerk (to put it nicely). For some reason Markus stood out to me as a good name to use. So, to be clear, I'm not taking a stab at anyone's Inquisitor.Regardless, for my official chapter one of "Goddess of Secrets". Night gets involved in the mess going on in the Hinterlands, and meets the first members of the Inquisition that we get to run around with. And now I feel like starting a new game.





	1. Meeting the Inquisition

A pair of dusty, black boots halted at the sound of a dog barking out in warning, followed by a thud and a yelp. Several men laughed and shouted encouragingly. Another yelp. “Fenedhis.” The Hinterlands were riddled with pockets of mages, Templars, and bandits, some of them fighting, some of them hiding, all of them on edge. Night had managed to pass unnoticed until now. A snarl, followed by another yelp, from a different dog. She approached a stone archway attached to the remains of what had been nice castle, keeping her hood up so her face remained in shadow. In the exposed middle of the structure stood a group of ten or so grown men, bandits by her estimation, dressed in mismatched armor and crowding around something she couldn’t see. Night leaned against the warm stone, coolly assessing the situation, and cleared her throat politely. “Excuse me, lads. Might you be so kind as to inform a lady what you’re doing?”

“Eh?” Several pairs of bloodshot eyes turned towards her, but the sounds from the center didn’t stop. “Whuddya want, wench? You ‘ere to keep us comp’ny?” They laughed. A dog yelped again. “Jus’ ‘ang on, swee’art. We’ll be wiff ya in a minnit.” He took a swig from the bottle in his hand.

“I’m afraid that just won’t do,” she replied as they started to turn around. “I demand your attention now.”

“Look, bi—.” The bandit sputtered and grabbed at his throat where a long, thin line of red quickly appeared. He fell to the ground, confused and unable to figure out why he couldn’t speak.

“Andraste’s tits, did any o’ ya see whut ‘appened?!”

“Ah didna see ‘er move!”

“Me neitha!”

“Do I have your attention now?”

“What’s going on,” came a proper voice from their midst. A tall blond in Templar armor pushed his way through them. “Oh? More entertainment? You boys really shouldn’t have.”

“She kill’t ‘im.” One of the bandits pointed towards the man on the ground who had finally stopped breathing.

“Well, now, it would seem we have a problem then. Restrain her, gents, and I’ll deal with her when I’m done with the mutts.” Night’s eyes flicked to the bloody mess just past the Templar; a Mabari shook as it tried to stand and defend a gruesome pile, but its mate didn’t stir.

“You’re damn right we have a problem, filth.”

“I beg your pardon. Bitch. But I am a Templar and no low-born, vagabond wh—.” He saw the flash of anger in her golden eyes as the assassin pounced, clearing the twenty feet between them with ease and slipping a blade under his armor and into his lower back. Night’s hood fell, revealing a wild mane of hair that looked like a trail of fire as she darted from one man to the other. Someone yelled out for help as she raked her serrated blade between the pieces of leather he’d patched together for armor. She made sure the Templar was alive to watch his posse fall, but her first attack had left him unable to walk. “Who the hell are you,” he screamed out.

“Just a ‘low-born, vagabond whore’, your shitty Templar-ness.” Night gave him a mock bow before peeling away the front of his armor. He tried to fight her off, but she kicked in a few of his ribs so he was too busy gasping for air. She knelt over the man and pushed her blade down into his abdomen, then up through his diaphragm slowly. She wanted it to hurt. She wanted him to die in agony, to have some idea how the Mabari and their pups must have felt. When the last of the life had drained from him, Night ripped her blade out and walked over to the dogs. She wanted to weep for them, for all of the innocent lives that were being lost because of the madness. “Ir abelas,” she whispered sadly, as the mother laid down and closed her eyes. A small snuffle came from somewhere in the mangled mess, followed by a distressed whine. “So there is hope after all.” She shifted through the tiny bodies until a little nose appeared. Night scooped a blood-covered, brindle pup into her arms and cradled it. “Ir abelas, da’len, but it looks as though you are with me now.”

“What in the Maker’s name is going on here?” Several pairs of feet came to a stop just shy of where the bandits lay. “You! Woman! What happened here?”

“’Woman’? That’s hardly any way to address a lady,” Night said, carefully controlling the annoyance in her features as she turned to face the party. Two humans, an elf, and Varric Tethras himself stood across from her, trying to make sense of what they were seeing.

“Very well, ‘my lady’,” began a raven-haired woman, a Seeker, Night surmised. “Please, tell us what happened? Who killed these men?”

“I did.”

“Why,” asked the man who first spoke. He had the air of a noble, with a sword in one hand and a Templar shield in the other. His mousy hair ruffled slightly in the wind, and she might have called the human decently attractive, if he weren’t so busy looking down his nose at her.

“Because,” she replied, “I don’t like people who torture and murder innocent animals.” Night gently kissed the top of the pup’s head and levelled a challenging stare at the warrior. Something changed in his expression, and she watched a shiver pass over him before he looked away uncomfortably.

“Disapproving of someone else’s actions doesn’t give you the right to kill them,” he said.

“But it’s perfectly alright for you to do so?”

“What?”

“I see a heavy coating of blood on your sword, and on your soul. Have you not been killing those who you believe are doing wrong and calling it justice, ‘Herald of Andraste’? Do you believe your cause more important than mine, and so believe it gives you the right to do as you please?”

“We,” the Seeker stopped herself mid-defense of the man, visibly taken aback by Night’s questions. “I see your point, I suppose, but the Templar—“

“Was the one doing the beating. If you care to discover the facts, you’ll notice his gauntlets are covered in their blood.” Her gaze drifted over to the elven mage; he seemed oddly out of place as he observed the situation, and she felt as though he were trying to peer into her. “Good luck,” she murmured with the barest hint of a smirk.

“Wait, now.” Varric moved forward a little, tilting his head and scrutinizing her. “Night? Is that you?”

“Hello, Varric,” she said with a grin. “How nice of you to finally notice.”

“You know this woman, Varric? Never mind. Why does this not surprise me,” the Seeker said with an exasperated shrug.

“Sorry, gorgeous! I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you in the daytime. Don’t you usually only come out at night,” he added with a laugh. “This is Seeker Cassandra, Markus Trevelyan, and Solas, but you can call him ‘Chuckles’, like I do.” The elf made a face but chose not to contradict Varric. “Everyone, this is Night, an old friend of mine.”

“Everyone is an old friend of yours, dwarf. Tell me something, is there anyone you _don’t_ know?”

“There are plenty of people I don’t know, Seeker.”

“Well, your ‘friend’ murdered a Templar in cold blood,” glared Markus. A strange, green glow surrounded one of his hands, but it disappeared around the edge of his shield when he shifted into a fighting stance.

“Calm down, Herald,” the Seeker said, placing a steady hand on the man’s slate-grey pauldron.

“I’d wager the blood was quite hot when she murdered him. Hers and theirs.” Solas was still trying to get a read on her, but the wind brushed through Night’s bright hair, catching him off-guard as it glinted in the sun. “Regardless,” he continued, blinking a few times to regain his focus, “she did not kill without reason.”

“The dogs were dead anyway, so there wasn’t any point in killing those men.” The warrior was determined to be right, just as he believed the Templars were in the right.

“Wrong. If you were paying attention, Herald, you would have noticed that this woman is holding a pup that is still very much alive. We’ve encountered many who have already murdered their victims, yet we engaged them anyway. Are you saying there was no point in us killing them?”

“No, but,” Markus sputtered, but knew he couldn’t argue.

“Perhaps I can offer some assistance with the pup?” The elf approached, hands held up to show they were empty.

“Oh, please, just go on, Chuckles. She’s not going to bite. Unless you’re into that, of course,” the dwarf added with a laugh.

“How bad is it,” he asked, ignoring Varric’s comment. The elf ran a hand over the tiny, shaking form in Night’s arms. He could smell the ocean once he was standing next to her, and when his gaze finished traveling over her figure, he found himself momentarily caught by a pair of golden eyes. Her full lips twitched, hiding a smile. Solas knew that she knew where his attention had been wandering. “May I?” He lifted the pup from her arms and stepped away as he went to work, trying to encourage the healing process. “He should be alright, although I think it would be best if he rested somewhere quiet and safe for a while. Perhaps you’d care to join us at Haven?”

“That’s a great idea!” Varric came over and hugged the woman, not caring that fresh blood was still glistening on her leather corset and breeches. “I see you still fancy dark purple blouses and knives that make the dead cringe.”

“I’ve yet to find a good enough reason to change colors. Purple just goes so well with my complexion.”

“Varric,” the Seeker said with a warning in her voice. “The two of you cannot simply invite whomever you feel like to Haven, friend or no.”

“Are we not accepting all who need help in Haven,” asked Solas.

“She doesn’t seem to be in need of aid,” Markus said haughtily.

“Don’t we need all the help we can get with the Breach?” Varric looked over at Cassandra and Markus, starting to get a little annoyed.

“And what can your friend offer in terms of help, dwarf?” Cassandra folded her arms stubbornly.

“Would you like to tell them or should I,” he asked the redheaded elven woman.

“You’re so much better at it than I am.” Night motioned him to proceed with a flourish of her hand and went back to watching Solas with her pup. “Are you done then?”

“So eager to hold him again?” The mage looked at her and arched a brow teasingly. “I could take him to Haven myself, should the Seeker and our ‘blessed Herald’ decide to bar entry to you.” He held his ground when she stepped forward, admiring the way her body moved smoothly and with minimum effort to close the gap between them.

“I found him, and so I shall take him with me.”

“With that logic, I could always argue that since I found you, I shall take you with me,” Solas said with a smirk.

“I wonder if you’d really let me take you up on that proposition.” She leaned forward so her face was only a few inches away, running a hand down the mage’s arm before resting it on the pup’s head.

“Stop flirting, you two, I have a story to tell,” Varric interrupted. “Now, my gorgeous, sun-kissed, fire-haired elven goddess here isn’t just any rogue. Nor is she just any Rivaini woman.”

“Ah, so that’s why you smell like the ocean,” the elf said.

“Ahem. Anyway. Night, is a—what did she call you?”

“A ‘spy-sassin,” the Rivaini woman answered with an amused smile.

“Right! A ‘spy-sassin’, and is great friends with Isabela. You remember Isabela, right, Seeker?”

“Oh, great,” Cassandra said, rolling her eyes. “So she’s a pirate. We’ve no need for a pirate, Varric.”

“No, she’s not a pirate. I said she’s a ‘spy-sassin’.”

“Please, stop using that word,” Markus said, putting his head in his hands, “you’re giving me a headache.”

“All the more reason to say it,” Varric mumbled too quietly for the warrior to hear. Night snorted softly. “Whatever. The point is, Night is just as good of a spy as Nightingale, and might be able to help us gather some more intelligence. Oh, right, and there’s one more thing,” he said with a chuckle.

“What?” Cassandra waited, annoyance written across her features.

“Allow me to present to you, the one, the only, her spy-sassin majesty-ness—“

“Varric,” Solas said calmly, shaking his head at the dwarf’s antics.

“The Collector of Secrets,” he finished with a bow. Cassandra gasped appropriately, bringing a smile of satisfaction to the dwarf’s face, and even Solas looked surprised.

“The…who?” Markus lifted his hands in confusion, shrugging his shoulders. “Never heard of her.”

“I have, though only through rumor and a few vague comments from Leliana. However, the Collector is supposed to be well-known throughout Rivain and Antiva. She has a special talent for discovering what people don’t want anyone else to know, and she trades in information.”

“That’s putting it a little too simply, but essentially, yes. And she’s known in Kirkwall these days, too, thanks to Isabela and me.” Varric, proud of himself, smirked at his redheaded friend. “That’s even where we met.”

“Indeed.” Night brushed up against Solas as she took the Mabari pup back. “Thank you for taking a look at him.”

“My pleasure,” he replied with a smile. She made an appreciative sound only he could hear as she walked behind him on her way to yank her second blade out of one of the fallen bandits. “So, yes,” Solas said, clearing his throat, “the ‘Collector of Secrets’. You have quite the reputation.”

“And yet, it would appear my presence is unwanted.”

“That would seem terribly unwise, considering the Inquisition is still in its infancy. I agree with Master Tethras that we need all of the help we can get.”

“Actually,” Cassandra sighed, “with your credentials and knowledge, we would be remiss _not_ to accept your aid. Would you be willing to help us?”

“Does no one care what I think about this," Markus asked indignantly.

“Hm.” Night made her way back over to stand by Solas and Varric, contemplating. “It just so happens that I’m already heading to Haven. On business.”

“And what business would that be,” the warrior demanded.

“Him,” she said, pointing to Varric.

“Me?”

“Isabela says to tell you ‘hello’ and sends her regards. She made a rather unusual request of me, but how could I say no to such a good friend?”

“What kind of request,” the dwarf asked uncertainly.

“Apparently, she feels you’re too prone to getting caught up in the troubles of others, and asked me to—oh, how did she say it?—make sure you live through this.”

“In other words, you’re here to be my babysitter. Great.” Varric frowned. “I know she means well, but she didn’t need to get you involved in this.”

“I’m fairly certain I would end up involved anyway. But it was this or I drag you back to Kirkwall. Isn’t it better that I am here exclusively to assist you?”

“’Exclusively’, you say?” The dwarf rubbed his chin, thinking. “What, exactly, did Isabela say?” He accepted a plain, white piece of paper from Night; it had been folded up and stamped with the Raider Queen’s seal. Varric read over the letter several times before laughing. “Alright, gorgeous, let’s do this!”

“What just happened?”

“Don’t worry about it, Seeker. Just keep in mind that Night is here for me, and now that ball of fluff, too, so anything she does for the Inquisition is purely business.”

“Business as in?”

“As in if you want her to do anything, you have to pay her as if she were doing any other job. And she doesn’t take orders from any of you. I’m sure Ruffles can iron out the details.” Varric continued to chuckle as he folded up the letter and turned to head back to Haven. “Come on, Night, I think you’re going to like it here, but you might consider getting a fur coat.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine. And if not,” she glanced at Solas, a smile playing across her mouth, “I’m sure I can find ways to keep warm.”

“I’m sure we both can,” Solas said without thinking as she slid past him after the dwarf. Cassandra looked at the elven mage in surprise before turning to follow Varric, Night and Markus.

“I’m going to pretend like I didn’t hear that,” she said sourly, “for both our sakes.”


	2. Herald's Unrest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus continues to be against Night's presence, causing tension between him and Varric. Solas seeks to know more about Night and takes Varric's advice.

“Tell her to leave, Varric.”

“What? This shit again? Is that why you called me in here, Herald,” the dwarf asked as he looked up from the map laid out across the table. They’d been having this argument off and on all week, with varying degrees of anger on both sides. The result was always a stalemate, and the Rivaini spy remained.

“Yes. Now, send her away. She’s here for you, so you can make her leave.”

“What’s going on,” Cassandra demanded, stepping into the makeshift war room. “You two are not speaking as quietly as you think.”

“The Herald here was just telling me to make Night leave.”

“Again, Markus? Why? She’s done nothing wrong, and she’s not been in anyone’s way. If anything, she _is_ helping, albeit on her own terms.”

“’Her own terms’. That’s exactly the problem. We can’t be sure of her loyalty to the Inquisition when she doesn’t at least _pretend_ to work for us. Until she promises to help properly, I don’t trust her to not start feeding information to our enemies for the right price.”

“Watch yourself, Trevelyan,” Varric said angrily. “That’s my friend you’re badmouthing. She may be a spy and an assassin, but she still follows a code, has morals, which is more than I can say for you sometimes. And I will _not_ ask her to leave.”

“Varric!”

“What? It’s the truth, Seeker. I thought we weren’t going to baby the noble, that we were going to make sure he came to terms with the fact that life isn’t fancy parties or him getting his way all the time. Or has that changed recently?”

“This is going nowhere,” Cassandra sighed, throwing her hands up. She watched the two men glare at each other, arms crossed defiantly. “I’m not saying that I agree with the Herald on this topic, but that statement was more than a little low, even for you.”

“Night’s done more good than he could ever dream of.”

“Oh, so you don’t think saving the world is a big deal?”

“Not when you’re the one we have to put up with.”

“Enough!” Cassandra rubbed her temples. “There must be some way to resolve this. Perhaps if Lady Night were to do something? Like provide useful intelligence as a show of good faith?”

“Are you serious, Seeker? You know, and Nightingale _definitely_ knows, that’s not how the business works.” Varric turned his angry gaze onto to Cassandra.

“I am only trying to offer solutions,” she scowled, starting to get angry herself.

“’The business’? Do you hear yourselves? I can’t believe this. Since when is restoring order to the world a ‘business’?” Markus slammed his fists down on the heavy wooden table, causing the various markers to jump and topple over. “Send her away, dwarf. Now.”

“Go to hell.” Varric turned to walk out before he said something he really regretted. “And, by the way, even _if_ I wanted to, which I _don’t_ , I can’t.”

“What do you mean,” Cassandra asked.

“The only one who could tell her to back off or go home is the one who hired her, and that wasn’t me.”

“Isabela,” the Seeker huffed out in aggravation.

“Correct. And she definitely won’t call this off. So you’re stuck, ‘Herald of Andraste’. Get over it.” He let the door slam closed behind him and hurried outside into the biting cold. Varric breathed the mountain air deeply in the hopes that the burn in his nose and lungs would give him something to think about besides how angry he was. Still needing to clear his head, he wandered through Haven, past refugees, pilgrims, and soldiers, until he reached Lake Luthias. He stared out across the frozen water, his eyes eventually moving to the Breach hovering far overhead.

“Is everything alright, Master Tethras?” Solas joined the dwarf in looking up at the swirling, green hole in the sky.

“I don’t know,” he said with a heavy sigh.

“The Herald is pestering you to make Lady Night leave. Again.”

“Yeah. Same shit, different day.”

“While I know that the obvious option to remedy the situation would be for you both to leave, I know that it is not in your character to abandon a cause you are invested in. And I, for one, would prefer it if you didn’t leave.”

“Not sure sometimes. Maybe I should start reevaluating my character. I might have a better chance of living longer.”

“I’d rather you didn’t change. I like you as you are.” They stood silently for a time, each contemplating a host of different things. Suddenly, Solas spoke. “May I ask you a question?”

“Can I stop you,” the dwarf asked with half a chuckle.

“Certainly, but as I am not the one you are angry with, I see no reason for you to deny me.”

“True enough.” Varric stayed quiet for a moment, waiting for the elf to continue. “What is it you want to know?”

“Where in Rivain is Lady Night from?” Solas pretended not to notice Varric’s questioning look.

“You’re asking me to tell you about my friend, the Collector of Secrets, whose secrets are so secret even they have secrets?” The dwarf chuckled.

“What’s the harm in asking? Tis an innocent enough question.”

“Andraste’s…you have a crush on her. Ha ha! I knew it! The way you two were flirting…oh, man, this is great, and just the thing to make my day a little bit better.”

“I do not have a ‘crush’,” the mage replied somewhat tartly. “I simply wish to know more about one of our companions, the same as I wish to know more about you or the Seeker or Commander Cullen.”

“Yeah, but you’ve asked us about ourselves directly.”

“How do you know I have not also enquired about you behind your back? Besides, I would ask Lady Night herself but she has maintained a rather busy existence since her arrival. When she isn’t helping refugees or the wounded, she’s sequestered in the most remote building possible out here towards the lake. I dare say her effort to remain out of the Herald’s way is only infuriating him further.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s definitely on purpose. Night knows how to get under someone’s skin when she needs to rankle them for a job or they’ve done something to piss her off. It’s another of her many talents. But,” Varric turned towards the elf with a grin, “back to you telling me how you _don’t_ have a crush on her.”

“I simply haven’t had the chance to speak with her as I have with you. And I’d hoped you might shed some light, being that you’re her friend.”

“Night doesn’t like anyone shedding light on her, despite that lovely, sun-kissed glow. Tell you what, Chuckles, tonight, when she’s back in that cabin, taking care of the Mabari pup, go knock and say you wanted to check on how he’s doing. Maybe ask if she’ll let you in to take a look and make sure he’s healing properly. Over the course of that, you might, oh, I don’t know, consider asking her a few questions. Maybe general likes and dislikes, hell, even hobbies. Just, uh, make sure it doesn’t sound like you’re attempting to interrogate her. And let her set the pace to start, otherwise you might spook her and then she’ll shut down completely.”

“I,” Solas trailed off, a bit surprised by the advice, and more surprised that he hadn’t thought of it himself.

“You can thank me later.” Varric walked off, leaving the elven mage to ponder whether he had the courage to take action.

Solas sighed and watched the Breach for a while longer, trying to decide how close he should keep his cards to his chest. The idea of flirting with Night reminded him a bit of when he was first learning to use fire magic: if treated lightly, he’d find himself with burnt fingers, or worse. And yet, she was too alluring for him to refuse the invitation to dance. Solas knew that in order to gain information, he would have to give information. That was, after all, how an exchange with the great “Collector” was supposed to go. As late afternoon became evening, the elf turned away from the ugly wound in the sky and headed towards the remote cabin. A fire already glowed within, its light seeping out around the edges of the door and shutters. He knocked, hoping she wouldn’t turn him away.

“Oh, Solas!” She looked over him quickly, surprised by his appearance at her door, but pleased he was there. “I was thinking I should find you, but it would seem you read my mind.”

“I…yes, I thought perhaps you might want me to take a look at the little one again, now that some time has passed.” _Keep calm_ , he scolded himself mentally. “May I enter?”

“Yes, yes,” she said hurriedly, motioning him in. Night closed the door behind them, trying to shut out the cold. “It’s been a bit chilly, so I’ve kept him close to the hearth and as wrapped up as I dare.”

“Chilly?”

“Well, chilly to me.”

“I would be so bold as to say it is freezing here, but that’s just me. Are you not from a much warmer climate?”

“Yes. I suppose that was a poor choice of words.” She pulled a heavy, black fur closer around her shoulders. “I’m adjusting though.”

“I see,” he said, noticing a slight shiver pass over her at the small gust that had followed him in. For a moment he was tempted to go to her and offer…he wasn’t sure what, so he turned his attention back to the first task. Solas made his way over to the little bundle wrapped up and resting in a wicker basket near the crackling fire. Small sniffing noises were coming from within. “It sounds as though he’s awake.”

“He wakes for a short while, then falls back asleep, and he’s not been eating much.” Night followed the tall elf, observing his motions for anything out of place. She didn’t suspect him so much as she tended to maintain a certain awareness of her environment, especially when so far from home. Sensing no threat, she let her mind wander a bit as she watched the flickering flames play over the handsome elf and Mabari. Suddenly, Solas was looking at her, asking something. “Hm?”

“Have you decided what to name him?”

“It’s hard to learn someone’s name when they aren’t at their best. He’ll show me when he’s ready.”

“That is an old custom, allowing the being of something to speak to you and whisper its name.” Solas found it a bit endearing that she kept up such an ancient tradition.

“I’ve done the same with all of my daggers. Of course, if you want to ensure your blade doesn’t turn against you in battle, you must give it a name before using it.”

“Hm. An interesting thought, if perhaps a bit superstitious. Although, I’m not typically one to carry a blade, so perhaps I simply haven’t learned any better.” Solas finished his examination and sat petting the pup as he stared into the flames. A million questions ran through his mind; there were so many things he wanted to know about the elven ”spy-sassin”, as Varric called her. _There’s really no rush_ , he told himself, _we can take our time_. “Tell me, where in Rivain are you from? It’s been quite a while since I last visited, but it has always been an interesting place.”

“Nowhere in particular. My mother never cared to live in the city, so I grew up somewhere between.”

“Between?”

“Between Llomerryn and Dairsmuid,” she laughed.

“That’s a lot of ground to cover, as well as a bit of sea. As for myself, I grew up in a tiny, landlocked village barely worth remembering.” Information for information.

“Do you miss it?” She watched Solas’s expression change, just a little bit of surprise he tried to cover up.

“That’s hard to say. There was so little to entertain me as a young man once I learned I was a dreamer, and yet I suppose there is some part of me that misses it. That was a simpler time in my life, although I failed to realize it until it was gone. As youths, we believe we are wise—.”

“But as adults, we realize we are all fools.”

“As you say,” he said, looking at the redhead in pleasant surprise. He turned back to the fire. “Magic was like water in a desert, and I a man dying of thirst. I followed wherever it led me.”

“I’m guessing you got into your fair share of trouble.”

“Definitely,” Solas confirmed with a wry chuckle. “And you? How did you come to be the ‘Collector of Secrets’? Surely you didn’t just roll out of bed one day and decide that’s what you were going to be, just as I didn’t roll out of bed one day and decide I was going to be a dreamer.”

“Perhaps I did, just not in so concrete a manner. Being a dreamer is what you are; even though you must train yourself to use that magic properly, it still comes naturally. I was always good at finding out things I wasn’t supposed to know, so I chose to train myself to use what talents I already possessed. I learned quickly that information—all information—is valuable to the right people. Leliana knows this, and it’s perhaps why she hasn’t pushed.”

“I…haven’t pushed you, have I?”

“No.” She reached out to stroke the Mabari pup’s soft head. “Though I am given to a suspicious nature.”

“And that nature makes you wonder, even if you don’t want to, whether I have come with ulterior motives.” The elf snorted quietly. “Well, allow me to put your suspicions to rest.” He shifted around to face her and tilted his head at her arched brow. “I _have_ come with ulterior motives.”

“Really now?” Night watched him, instincts preparing her to act if necessary.

“I want to get to know you better, and Varric advised me to come here and ask you myself, under the initial pretense of checking up on this little fellow,” he added, nodding to the passed out pup. “Not that I wasn’t already wondering how he was doing.”

“Oh, Varric,” she laughed, relaxing a little. “Trust that dwarf to meddle.” Night rose from the floor and stretched. “Any reason you want to get to know me better? Or is it just because I’m such an enigma?” She walked towards the bed, continuing to stretch her legs, and hugged the fur tighter around herself. A thought flitted through her mind and she suppressed a smile as she turned back to face him. “Or do you have another reason for wanting to know me?”

“Is it alright if I just want to know you because you are interesting? Because you seem like someone worth knowing? You _are_ friends with Varric, after all; that would normally be more than enough for most people to want to get to know you. My motives are simply…personal.”

“Fair point. But I’m afraid you’ll find I’m not much of an open book.”

“I don’t mind.” Solas rose from the floor and approached the beautiful elven woman slowly.

“I don’t bite,” she said with a small laugh.

“Unless I’m into that,” he asked, repeating Varric’s statement from their first meeting. “Perhaps some questions are best answered another time.” He stopped when there was only a small bit of space between them. “Sometimes the best books are those which must be convinced to share their story. Often quite a bit about ourselves is revealed in the process, and the journey makes the knowing all the more worthwhile. But, if you will humor me one more question this evening, I should like to know one thing.” Solas watched her warm, red waves shift as she inclined her head for him to continue. “What sort of flowers do you like?”

“Blue roses,” Night answered after a moment with a sly smile and another laugh as she took the pup into her arms.

“Such a thing does not exist naturally.”

“And yet it can come to be. Good night, Solas,” she said with an amused smile, escorting him to the door and leaving him out in the cold so she could go cuddle with the pup.

“Blue roses?” The mage thought about it, probably a little too hard, as he made his way back to his own cabin. He was halfway to sleep, curled up in his own warm, lonely bed, when her meaning suddenly dawned on him. “Clever, very clever. And now I shall be awake all night continuing to think about it,” he added with a frown. Solas had started thinking about the different meanings of flowers and their colors. The meaning of a blue rose eventually floated back to him out of some memory from long ago: loyalty, truth, the unattainable, a love that required making the impossible possible, true love, and soulmates. Such notions were often considered to exist only within the realm of fantasy, only brought into life by the romantic dreamers of poetry and art. “I did not expect such a romantic might be hiding in the shadows. I shall have to remember to be on my toes at all times with you, my Lady Night.” He lay there with a smile on his face, eventually drifting off to dream in a garden of blue roses under a starry sky. “I’ve never been here before,” he murmured in his sleep, as he watched a redheaded woman weaving through roses in the distance.


	3. Every Day Has Its Night; Every Night Has Her Bad Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night and Solas venture into the Hinterlands.

Solas sat in his cabin, carefully carving sigils into a length of oak he intended to turn into a new staff. Once again, the Herald had left him behind, preferring the company of Cassandra, Varric, and one of the better recruits Cullen was training. Markus clearly didn’t trust mages, even those that proved themselves committed to the cause. _That’s fine_ , Solas thought to himself, _I’m not here to fuel that halfwit’s ego_. The mage had half a mind to venture out on his own, the same as he did prior to the Breach appearing. Suddenly, someone was banging on the door, interrupting his focus. “A moment, please,” he said, aggravated. An angry elven woman burst in before he could get up, her unusually aggressive energy overwhelming the small space. “Night! What can I—?”

“Have you seen Varric,” she demanded.

“He left with the Herald and Seeker this morning. They’re searching for a Warden in the Hinterlands. Why?”

“That ass! I’m supposed to go with him, or at the very least know where he’s going when he leaves. The Hinterlands, you say?”

“Yes.” The mage grabbed his coat and other staff before following the Rivaini.

“You don’t need to come, Solas, this is my responsibility.” Night glanced back and tried to curb her irritation. She wasn’t angry with him.

“And, yet, I’m coming with you. Despite your skill, there are plenty of dangers in the area right now. Isn’t it better to have someone watching your back?”

“Fine. Where is this Warden supposed to be? We can start there.”

“Up by Lake Calenhad, according Lady Nightingale.”

“Then let’s not waste any time.” Together they made their way down into the Hinterlands where it was, thankfully, a bit warmer. Autumn was in full glory, but the chaos made it hard to enjoy the beauty around them. Night and Solas passed the burnt-out shells of several homes that were just a little too far from the village. “I can’t believe they’re still going at it,” she muttered. “Can’t they see they’re only making things worse and proving to be exactly how they perceive each other?”

“If only it were so simple; they are blinded by centuries of mistrust and mutual abuse. And, unfortunately, our Herald isn’t really helping matters by supporting the negative impression of mages.”

“True, but I still don’t understand in your case. You’ve done nothing but help, and still he treats you like a blight victim.” Night paused at the bottom of a rise and turned to face the mage. “I suppose we can’t expect more of someone who grew up sheltered in splendor, hero-worshipping Templars.”

“Not that I am in favor of them myself, but you seem very much against the Order. Exactly the opposite of the Herald.”

“And you wish to know if there’s a reason for that.” She heaved a sigh and dug the tip of her boot into the soil. “I suppose that’s a natural curiosity.”

“If you don’t want to tell me, I understand.” Solas leaned against his staff, watching as she debated with herself. _For a Rivaini, she keeps her look understated_ , he mused, noting a hint of gold peeking out from waves of red hair, but a lack of adornments otherwise. _I suppose having anything too flashy would be counterproductive to her profession, but it feels like something is missing. A necklace, perhaps?_

“I somewhat doubt the news has reached Ferelden, despite the Conclave.” Night folded her arms and looked out across the open field they’d just crossed. “Dairsmuid is the only place in Rivain where the Chantry has any sort of power; it’s also the only place we have a Circle.”

“Yes, I recall hearing that most mages in Rivain manage to avoid the Circle, and many women become seers for their villages. It’s a position of great importance, especially in a matriarchy. The Circle itself I’ve heard little of, aside from it being a front to appease the Chantry.”

“Exactly. The Circle at Dairsmuid was always a very open and safe place. The mages could interact with normal people, leave the tower, have families, and the women were able to train as seers.”

“Was?”

“After the vote, once the rebellion was official, the Chantry sent Seekers from Ayesleigh to look into the situation there. Their reaction was…typical. They invoked the Right of Annulment.”

“I see.” Solas didn’t need her to explain what that meant; he knew what happened when Seekers and Templars annulled a Circle.

“I had friends there. They were good people who just wanted to live freely, to choose their own path. The Dairsmuid Circle didn’t teach their mages to be afraid of their power or to shun methods the Chantry deems unorthodox. Rivella was an excellent First Enchanter but before that, she was the daughter of Captain Revaud, who taught her what he knew about strategy and planning for battle. She defended her people to the end.” Night shifted in place, an unreadable expression crossing her features. “For any organization to have the power to decide lives are forfeit because they don’t follow some ridiculous set of rules…it’s wrong. It’s more than wrong. Every mage in the Circle was murdered, even the children. How can anyone justify that? How can an organization like the Chantry, supposedly based on ideals like love and charity, not only condone such a thing, but establish the practice in the first place?”

“I am truly sorry, Night.” Solas placed his hand on her shoulder, unsure of what to say. “I disapprove of the Chantry’s practices and stance on mages, and I wish there were a way to keep such things from happening. Perhaps, if this goes well, the new Divine will learn from the mistakes made by those who’ve come before her.”

“I rather doubt it. Humans are resistant to change and fear what they cannot control, so they destroy it instead. Like the dragons.” Night shrugged and Solas let his hand fall away. “True beauty is wild, untamed. And the past cannot be undone.”

“What if it could be,” he asked as she started to walk away.

“Hm?”

“Hypothetically, what if the past could be undone? Would you change it?”

“I’m not sure,” she replied after a few thoughtful minutes. “Our history shapes us into who we are; it’s a part of what defines us. If it’s changed, then we are no longer ourselves. I wish I could undo the horrors and the senseless loss of life, but I also know that I wouldn’t be who I am without the things I’ve seen and done. And, were I to change things while remaining and remembering myself, people would wonder why I am the way I am, when the reason for it no longer exists.”

“An interesting reply.”

“For an interesting question.”

“So, it isn’t just Templars you hate.”

“I’ve always hated the Chantry as a whole, but most of Rivain doesn’t believe in the Maker or support the religion to begin with. Their touted ideals are the complete opposite of what they do. The most devout elf cannot become a priestess simply for the fact she isn’t human, yet they want the world to convert to their beliefs. The entire setup, Chantry, Templars, Seekers, all of it, is just a front for people who desire power and wish to control everyone else. Although they’re not really any better, at least the Qunari put the good of the whole ahead of personal agendas.”

“The community first,” Solas said; inwardly, he bristled at the mention of the Qun. “You support the Qunari?”

“Not at all,” she replied with a sharp laugh. “They want to control the world just as much as humans, and they stamp out individuality. Can you honestly see me being so… obedient,” she asked.

“Not at all,” he said with half a smile, looking away before she caught his eye. “What would you have then?”

“I would see the Chantry broken, even more than it already is. I would see it crumble away to nothing, and the Seekers and Templars with it.” Night shook her head. “But I also can’t see that happening. Too many people cleave to the pretty façade, and, when they should see just how hollow it is, they squeeze their eyes shut and cling even more tightly.”

“People rely on their faith to bolster them in times of despair.” Solas moved closer again, curious about the revelation. He wasn’t surprised to learn she disapproved of the Chantry, but her open hostility was worth pressing a little more. “So what do you,” he stopped. The sounds of fighting reached their ears from the next hollow. “That’s the Seeker!”

“And Varric!” They rushed to the top of the rise to find the trio they sought pinned down in a shallow cave by a group of demons appearing from a nearby rift. The young trainee lay dead ten paces from shelter. Golden eyes glittering, Night pulled her daggers from a special sheath built into the lower back of her corset, and shouted over her shoulder. “Solas, cover me!”

“What?” He felt an odd stir in the air as the assassin rushed forward in a blur. Solas swiftly cast a barrier to cover her, marveling at her modified version of hidden blades that left the barest whisper of an after image while she danced from one shade demon to another. He wrapped several in ice and watched a bolt from Varric’s crossbow shatter one of the frozen enemies.

“Solas!” Cassandra shouted to the mage and gestured to a Despair demon that materialized from the rift. “Dispel its magic! Hurry!”

“It will do no good, Seeker!” He reinforced the barrier, knowing that was a lie, before casting a fire glyph under the icy spirit. It reeled from the impact, flying out of his range and into Night’s path. Hair and daggers mere trails of flame behind her, Solas watched as she tore neatly into the demon and weakened it further. Cassandra rushed out to finish it with a clean sword stroke. “Excellent! But why does our fearless leader not help,” he asked when the Seeker came close enough to hear him.

“The Herald is injured; he needs attention from a healer as soon as possible. For now, we must clear this mess so he can seal the rift.”

“Understood.” Solas conjured a wall of ice when one of the remaining shades attacked Night’s flank. She shot him a quick grin, but it disappeared as a long tendril twisted around her ankle. The Terror yanked Night’s feet from under her before flinging her into the rock face above Varric and Markus. She landed hard, face down on the ground below. “Night!”

“Gorgeous!” The dwarf ducked out from his refuge and shot several shatter-bolts at the demon as he ran to her side.

“Get up!” The mage tapped into the raw magic of the fade seeping from the open rift as the Terror began sinking into the ground. A fist of energy formed in the air and crushed the demon before it could finish transporting itself.

“Markus, do it now! Close the rift!”

“R-right!” At Cassandra’s call, a shaky Markus emerged from the opening of the cave and stretched out his marked hand. Once the tear was sealed, he slipped to the ground and wrapped one arm around his abdomen. “You guys came just in time. I didn’t think we were going to make it!”

“Night!” Solas ignored the man and rushed to the Rivaini woman’s side. “Varric, is she…?”

“Alive, but hurt pretty bad,” the dwarf replied. “That thing sent her pretty far, and the distance was enough for her to gain some velocity before she slammed into the stone. We need to get her back to Haven, but I’m afraid to move her.”

“At least we have a moment to collect ourselves and assess the situation.” When he brushed the hair from her face, Solas could see that she was unconscious and wouldn’t wake any time soon. “This is very bad,” he said as he ran his hands carefully over her back, using his magical senses to detect the extent of the damage. “Her corset will help keep the bones from shifting, but only if we don’t jostle her around too much.”

“Is there anything we can do to transport her safely,” Cassandra asked after she checked the perimeter.

“What about me,” Markus whined, still clutching himself.

“If we could get a cart or make a litter to carry her, yes, but whatever we do we need to keep her flat.” Solas pushed some healing magic into the elven woman, making use of the lingering rift energy.

“I’ll look for something we can use. In the meantime, Seeker, you might want to look after your Chosen One before he expires from a lack of attention.” The dwarf darted off.

“Let me see your wound, Herald,” she said with a sigh. Now that the fight was over and she could look at him properly, the man didn’t seem to be as injured as he’d initially made out. “Well? Move your arm so I can see how bad it is.” Cassandra grabbed his forearm, yanking it away when he hesitated, and looked at the rip in the leather. “I told you to wear proper armor; this material isn’t any good if you want to protect yourself in close combat. You’re a warrior, not a rogue.” She sucked in a breath and twisted her face in disgust. “That is nothing more than a flesh wound!”

“But—.”

“But nothing. Ugh. I can’t believe you! When we return to Haven, you are going to train properly with Cullen and his Templars.”

“With Cullen? But that guy trained with Cullen and now look at him,” he said, gesturing to the dead man.

“Would you rather train with me?” She glared at him. “I will not trust my flank to someone who talks loudly about being an accomplished warrior but cowers when barely grazed in real combat.” Cassandra shook her head and returned to watching the perimeter. She tensed at movement in the trees but quickly recognized the stocky form hurrying towards them. “Varric has returned, Solas.”

“I found a cart! It’s not in perfect shape but I think it’ll work.” The dwarf tugged a small, two-wheeled cart behind him.

“It’ll do. Now, help me get her on it.” Solas and Cassandra gently lifted Night onto the wooden slab while Varric held it steady. “When we get back, we need to take her to where she’s been staying. There should be less fuss to get there, fewer people, and no steps, and it’ll be quiet so I can focus on trying to heal her.”

“Let us go. We’ve spent enough time in the open.” Cassandra turned her head and grimaced at the sound of a small, armed group approaching. “Bandits.” The sound of another group came towards them from the direction Varric had come from. “Maker’s breath, does today not end?”

“Careful, Seeker, or it may end differently than you hope.” Solas cast another barrier and prepared to meet the second group as the sun began to slip towards the horizon. “Perhaps all is not lost,” he said with a small laugh. “Look.”

“Andraste’s ass!” Varric grinned at the sight of Inquisition scouts moving through the trees towards them.

“Lady Seeker!” The leader, concealed in subtle layers of cloth and leather, saluted. “When you didn’t pass by camp again, we became worried. Do you require assistance?”

“Yes, and just in time, too. We need to get the Herald and this woman back to Haven, but it sounds like we’re about to have more company.”

“Right. We’ll deal with the bandits and make sure the way ahead is clear.”

“Thank you. Come,” Cassandra said. “Let’s leave while we still can.”

The small party made its way back to Haven, alert for any other dangers along the way, and grateful for the scouts. Markus brought up the rear, head bent in shame and a growing anger. The Rivaini had been nothing but an aggravation since she arrived, and once again made him look bad. “I hate elves,” he said under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events mentioned for the Dairsmuid Circle are based on lore directly from Dragon Age: Inquisition. For the in-game codex entry on what happened at the Dairsmuid Circle, please follow this link: http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Codex_entry:_The_Annulment_at_Dairsmuid.


	4. Beware the Roses, They Bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night's been unconscious for days, and Markus keeps visiting. Solas is but one mage trying to maintain a delicate balance between healing and protecting the Rivaini woman. With Varric on guard, he must travel into the Fade to find what's keeping her, before Markus catches them off-guard.

Solas knew Markus believed his comment went unheard on their return to Haven. The man’s face twitched slightly in disappointment every time the mage greeted him at Night’s door before asking after her. Was it wrong for the elf to stay by her side as she recovered? Varric thanked him repeatedly for looking after her, obviously feeling responsible for her condition. _No_ , the elf told himself, _I don’t trust Markus not to try something if I leave her unprotected_. He fed the fire against the cold that tried to creep in and returned to Night’s side. “Why won’t you wake?”

“Chuckles?” Varric’s voice came from the doorway. “How is she tonight,” he asked, shutting the door tightly behind himself.

“The same, I’m afraid. It’s been four days and she remains unconscious. If I didn’t know any better…,” he trailed off.

“Continue,” the dwarf encouraged with a wave of his hand.

“It’s as though she’s in stasis while the worst of her injuries heal, something I can’t really explain under normal conditions.”

“Wouldn’t that have…implications?”

“You tell me. She’s your friend, you know her better than I do. Surely you have some idea of her capabilities.”

“Do I really need to reiterate her title? I doubt even Isabela knows everything Night’s capable of, and probably prefers to keep it that way. You can’t stay in business as a spy if people know everything about you.”

“But she’s your friend.”

“And I respect her privacy, Chuckles.” The dwarf sighed. “You need an answer on this, I get that, but I don’t have one. Why don’t you try that whole dreaming thing and see if you can find something out? It’s worth a shot.”

“I’m…concerned.” Solas glanced to the door. “Markus has been coming around too much, and I suspect he’s waiting for an opportunity to, how can I put this, ensure Night _doesn’t_ wake up.”

“You really think he’d go that far?” Varric looked doubtful until a knock came from the door. “Awfully late for any more visitors.”

“Varric!” A nervous and too-cheerful Markus stood in the small rectangle of firelight just outside.

“Something I can help you with?”

“Oh, just checking to see how Night’s coming along. Wanted to see if anything had changed since earlier today.”

“You’re to be disappointed once again, Herald. I’ll update Varric when there’s a change, and he will advise you, should it be vital you know. In the meantime, it’s cold, it’s late, and I’m sure you have other things you could be doing.”

“Yeah,” Varric chimed in, picking up the bad vibe, “I’m sure Seeker Cassandra could find some exercises for you to do if you have too much energy to sleep.”

“No, no, I’m good. Just about to turn in for the evening actually, but since I was on my way back from patrolling a bit I thought I should stop in. Well. Good night!” The warrior turned and quickly disappeared into the darkness.

“Alright, I believe you.” The dwarf shut the door, making sure it was extra secure. “How about this: I’ll guard, while you go in and find out what’s keeping her.”

“Agreed.” Solas shifted a few things around the room before adding to the series of wards he was keeping in place around Night’s bed. A small cot sat next to it with the simplest trappings for sleep. “I’d like to say I won’t be gone long, but I get the feeling she has training against mind control and unexpected dream visitors. That will make it harder to find her in the Fade, no matter how close I might be to her physically.”

“Take all the time you need, Chuckles, Bianca and I will be waiting when you get back,” he said, patting the crossbow slung over his shoulder. “Sweet dreams.”

“Happy guarding.” The mage settled down on the cot and began willing all distractions from his mind. He focused on relaxing each muscle in his body, on the flow of energy within the wards, and Night’s heartbeat. When he opened his eyes again, Solas was standing in a garden of blue roses. “Well, this is rather familiar. And maze-like,” he added, noticing that there was a definite pattern through the blooms. Tentatively, the elf put a hand on top of a row of bushes that only came to his waist and tried to climb over. An invisible force knocked him back instantly and the roses grew far over his head, the branches twisting out and becoming riddled with angry thorns.

“I assumed as much; that would have been too easy.” Solas sighed and tried to devise a better plan. He thought about the Rivaini elf’s aura, the way she moved, her hair glinting in the sun, the gold of her eyes, and that devious smile sneaking across her lips. The mage sucked in his breath at the intensity of his own emotions within the Fade, but assumed it was nothing more than the usual transition. He didn’t have the time to sort through everything clamoring for his attention. “Where exactly would you be hiding? The middle is too obvious, and yet almost obvious enough to be right.”

“Hello, Solas,” a familiar voice said behind him, interrupting his musing.

“Purpose?” The mage turned to see one of his old friends, a spirit of Purpose, hovering a few feet in the air. “So this is where you’ve been. Interesting.”

“Isn’t she?” The spirit grinned as it reshaped itself to look like Night. “And, yes, I know that’s not what you meant, but she really is very interesting.”

“In other words, you’re not trapped in this maze by accident.”

“No, I’m not trapped at all. I like Night. She’s fun and full of so much purpose, and all those lovely secrets she collects. Although, I must confess, I still only know what she allows me. That woman is meant for great things.” The spin twisted and rolled in place, shifting smoothly through the air like water.

“Yes, well, those things can’t be if she doesn’t wake up.”

“Ah, true. I might be able to assist with that, but I’m afraid it will cost you.”

“Coming from you, that sounds rather…unusual.”

“Sorry, not my rules, hers. This is, after all, her labyrinth and her series of defenses; I’ve only elected to assist her. We have entered into a—what do humans like to call it—pact, but not like one with a demon,” spirit-Night added when Solas started to make a face.

“As long as it’s not interfering with your nature, I suppose I can’t really complain.” _But I want to_ , he thought to himself with a sigh. “May I enquire as to the nature of this ‘pact’?”

“You may, but it will cost you to do so.” The spirit watched him, a similar glint of humor in its expression as the real Night.

“Why does this seem so familiar?” Solas mulled over the situation for a moment, and then realized what felt familiar: it was Night’s code, the way she operated. Information for information, a secret for a secret, or something of equal value. “Fine. I understand, I think, how this should to work. What will your assistance cost me?”

“You must be serious about waking her up, if you’re willing to play the game,” spirit-Night grinned.

“Game? Please, tell me you’re joking. This isn’t a game; it’s a matter of her own safety.”

“As is this. These measures keep her mind and spirit safe, so that she cannot be possessed, nor can someone control her. The game isn’t that complicated, I promise, but it should be challenging, even for you.”

“Alright, let’s begin.” Solas crossed his arms and waited for the spirit.

“Answer me this,” Purpose said in Night’s voice, “What will Night name the wee pup?”

“What—whatever he reveals his name to be,” the mage replied in confusion. This was something he’d asked Night himself and not a challenging question at all.

“Oh.” The spirit looked taken aback for a moment and contemplated his answer. “I guess…you may pass,” spirit-Night said slowly.

“Wait. Really? That was it?”

“It’s not as if she shares such things with just anyone. The naming process is a sacred act for her and not a thing to take lightly. Night must like you, to have shared such a thing,” she added with a grin.

“I’m not sure how I should feel about that yet, but,” Solas paused, thinking about the real Night. “Where is she?”

“You have one more challenge to pass before you reach her.” Spirit-Night waved her hand and a doorway appeared in the hedges beside him. “Good luck!”

“You’re not coming with me?”

“No,” she said with a laugh. “My purpose is here. Don’t worry: you’re already off to a good start.”

“I still can’t believe I have to go through all of this,” he muttered as he stepped through the opening. “Surely there’s an easier way.” Solas found himself standing in a small courtyard surrounded by rose hedges with no obvious way out. Stones etched with an elegant design covered the ground. They reminded him of a temple he’d once visited.

“And surely you realize you’ve already bypassed a great deal of Night’s defenses.” The bass-y voice came from the other side of the small courtyard. A spirit of Valor formed himself out of the Fade, dressed in golden armor reminiscent of an ancient Elven sentinel, and watched Solas attentively.

“What kind of challenge can I expect this to be?”

“A challenging one,” the spirit replied dryly.

“Another question or something else?” Solas reigned in his sarcasm and tried not to sigh. Valor would be a hard win no matter what the actual challenge was, but he assumed it would involve some form of combat. The spirit waved his armored hand and a fist-sized garnet appeared in the middle of the courtyard. It floated in the air, shoulder-height, with an odd purple glow that surrounded it in a perfect sphere. The elven mage raised one brow and looked from the gem to the spirit.

“Seize it, if you can.”

“Alright,” he said uncertainly. _What sort of trick is this?_ Solas approached the sphere and circled around it, trying to feel out what it was. He could only sense that it was there. “Fine,” he murmured irritably before reaching out to grasp the stone. A wave of energy engulfed his arm like a swarm of angry hornets, accompanied by the sickening taste of his own bad memories. His vision swam with images of his mistakes, shattered promises, and failures and they remained even when he tried to shut his eyes against them. The bitter flavor of loss and defeat coated his mouth. He almost pulled his hand back, but somewhere under all of the noise he could hear Valor chuckling. The mage vowed to keep going just for spite. “Fenedhis.”

Solas gritted his teeth against the pain and pushed through the sphere. There was a moment where he thought he might vomit and another where he was afraid he’d missed the garnet entirely. The mage blinked several times as the memories faded away and replaced themselves with a library. He stood on a balcony overlooking a sprawling collection of rows upon rows of bookcases that went on further than he could see. Surprisingly, daylight flooded through the floor-to-ceiling windows and illuminated the vast room.

“Well, well, you made it.”

“Night?” Solas whipped around at the sound of her teasing lilt and found the Rivaini lounging on a garnet-colored chaise in the shadows. “What is this place?”

“What do you think it is?” She sipped dark red wine from a crystal glass and watched him with a sly smile.

“An archive,” he said, “for all of the secrets and information you’ve collected.”

“Very good.” The redhead set her glass down on a curving, black end table at her elbow before standing to approach him. Instinctively, Solas tried to retreat a step, but the marble guardrail pressed into his lower back. “Is something the matter? You came all this way in search of me, and now you get cold feet?”

“To be honest, I can’t yet be sure it’s really you.”

“To be honest, that’s quite fair. I could be another spirit attempting to trick you in order to keep my little horde safe.”

“’Little’?” He snorted. “I feel that’s an extreme understatement, my lady.”

“Perhaps.” Her mouth twitched up on one side. “How can I prove that I am me? Although, since you’re in my mind it should be the other way around. How do I know that you are you?”

“Are we at an impasse then?”

“Doubtful. There’s always a way to resolve such things,” she said, coming close enough to run one long finger down his arm. She watched the elven mage try to restrain the shiver that ran through him. “The Fade always makes things so much more…intense. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes,” he said quietly, deciding this woman was most definitely Night. No one else would tease him so, not even Purpose pretending to be her. “Do you visit the Fade often?”

“As often as I can. It hides such wonderful things.”

“Night, I need you to be honest with me, please.” _I can protect you better_ , he almost said, but the words caught in his throat.

“About,” she asked as she pretended not to pay attention to his what he said and let her golden eyes wander over him. “Mmm. You do look nice,” the Rivaini said to herself. Her hand moved back up his arm slowly and lingered on his neck; she caressed his jawline with her thumb pensively.

“Are you…” Solas trailed off when Night’s eyes flicked up to his with the first sign of displeasure he’d yet seen directed at him. Part of him squirmed uncomfortably, suddenly aware that he could be in danger, but another part of him simply hated that she was looking at him that way. The mage sighed. “Are you ready to wake up?”

“I’m still healing.”

“True, but it’s not a good idea to remain here right now.”

“Why? You’re protecting me,” she said with a small smile. “Or have you gotten bored of me already?”

“I doubt I could ever be bored with you.” He took the hand resting against his skin into his own and kissed it. Night laughed at the gesture and the sudden unhappiness disappeared. “However, you’ve definitely made an enemy of Markus; he stops by to ‘check’ on you frequently.”

“So waking up would disappoint him in the greatest of ways.” She sighed and frowned. “Fine.” The room wavered until the entire scene vanished. “See you soon, handsome.”

“What?” Solas stood alone, surrounded by his own mental iteration of the Fade. “Ah, time to wake up.” The mage left his dream-space and slowly opened his eyes to the small cabin. A worried Varric stood nearby with Bianca at the ready. The dwarf jumped when Solas spoke. “I hope I wasn’t gone too long, Master Tethras.”

“Andraste’s ass, Chuckles, don’t scare me like that! Did it work?”

“I think so,” the mage replied as he sat up and rubbed a hand over his face, trying to clear his thoughts.

“Varric,” came a weak voice from the bed.

“Gorgeous! You’re awake!” The dwarf rushed to her side and took her hand gently in his. “How do you feel?” He searched her face for any sign she might have lost consciousness again when the Rivaini woman took too long to respond. “Night?”

“Why don’t you give her a chance to finish waking up?” Solas stood and tried to stretch the knot that had formed in his back while dreaming.

“Varric,” she said again. “I…I have something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“Have you…have you heard the one about the spymaster?”

“No,” the dwarf said, confused. _What information could she have on Leliana that’s so important she needs to share it right now?_ Night tried to lift her head, but didn’t get far; Varric leaned in so she could whisper in his ear.

“It’s a secret.” There was a quiet thump as Solas groaned and knocked his head against the wall.

“What?” Varric pulled back slightly and looked at the woman, not understanding at first. He glanced at Solas.

“Spymaster…secret. Come, Master Tethras, I know you can figure it out.”

“A se…ugh. Really, Night? You want to make bad jokes at a time like this? You just woke up from a four-day coma! I could—I could,” he searched for the right words, before laughing loudly. “I guess now is probably the perfect time to make bad jokes.”

“Absolutely,” Night said with a short chuckle. She winced at the twinge of pain in her still-broken ribs. “I take it we won.”

“Yes, we won,” Solas said with a sigh. “And, I’d really prefer it if you didn’t do that again.”

“I’ll try, but I make no promises,” she said with a wink and hint of her usual grin.

The mage felt something in his stomach flutter and tried to restrain the blush that wanted to color his cheeks. _Fenedhis_ , he thought to himself. Varric flashed him a cheeky grin and mouthed the word “crush” in his direction. “You’re being childish, Master Tethras.”

“Naturally. I’m prone to bouts of childlike innocence and humor.”

“Innocence my ass,” Night said.

“And a fine one it is, Gorgeous.” He laughed when she weakly made a rude gesture, before starting to fret over the little things. Was she comfortable enough? Did she need anything? “How are you healing,” Varric asked finally.

“Not sure yet. Slowly, I think, but not as slowly as I might have without a skilled mage’s aid.” She glanced over to Solas, who had retreated to stand by the fire. His back was to her, but she could tell he was still listening. He glanced slightly over his shoulder and inclined his head before settling into a wooden chair with the Mabari pup in his lap. His mouth drew into a soft smile.


	5. When Shadows Speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is so short, but I have a rather long chapter planned to come next which should make up for it.

Night didn’t make for a very patient patient; she wanted out of bed as soon as possible. “This is why I prefer stasis,” she hissed through clenched teeth as she tried to sneak out again.

“And this is why Solas and I refuse to leave you alone. Andraste’s ass, Gorgeous, you need to rest!” The dwarf rushed over and pushed her back down firmly. “Stay. In. Bed.”

“I can’t, Varric. I need to be up and doing things, not idly passing the time as an invalid. And you’ll freak out if I go back to sleep properly.”

“What’s with that anyway,” Varric asked. He trusted Night, but he’d also be the first to admit he didn’t know a whole lot about her. It wasn’t an uncommon issue with spies, but the Rivaini was definitely beyond Leliana’s level of expertise. Sometimes he wondered things, but didn’t ask because she was both a friend and a friend of a friend. “I just don’t understand it.”

“What?”

“That stasis thing you did. I know you have some excellent talents, but going into a coma while your body heals from major injuries? That’s…a little more than what can be called ‘unusual’.” Someone knocked, interrupting. “If that’s fucking Markus again I swear I’m going to let Bianca take a shot at him. Oh! Seeker, Nightingale! What brings you to our little cabin all the way out here?”

“Business, I’m afraid,” Leliana answered. “Is Night awake?”

“Her assistance in this matter is crucial,” Cassandra added immediately.

“Uh, sure. You ladies do remember the part about the broken ribs and back still mending, right?”

“We are aware,” the Seeker replied with her usual unamused tone.

“Just let them in already, Varric. You’re letting all the warm air out.” Night had managed to pull a large black fur up to her nose; all anyone could see was a pair of pale golden eyes below dull, red curls.

“You’ve looked better.”

“Thanks, Leliana. If they’d let me up to at least get a bath and put on different clothes, it might not be so bad.” She shot an annoyed look at Varric.

“We need your help with a special mission. I know you’re not in the best shape, but this is important. And we’re willing to compensate you however you deem necessary,” Cassandra said solemnly.

“We have a week before we can make a move regardless.” Leliana turned to Varric. “I’m afraid this is for her ears only.”

“Well, that’s mean, trying to keep all of the juicy tidbits from me. What will I write about for this chapter of Night’s biography? It’ll be blank!” The dwarf tried to make light of it, but he was a bit hurt and worried what they might be asking her to do.

“When the Herald goes to seek an alliance with the Templars, as we already know he will, he’ll most likely take the two of us along. He does not need to know about this, in fact, it’s crucial that he doesn’t, and the less you know, the better, Varric. Come.”

“You’re leaving, too,” he asked in shock.

“Yes, this is a secret, and must remain so; it’s a spy thing, if you will, and is between Night and Leliana.” The two went outside to wait and make sure they didn’t have any unexpected company.

“Now, I think we can skip with the pleasantries, yes?” Leliana moved closer to Night, who had managed to get into a sitting position.

“Color me intrigued. What’s so important it’s for spies only?”

“The Herald will go to Therinfal Redoubt to seek aid from the Templars. He should have the influence to approach them in about a week; Josie is delaying a little in order to give us a chance. We’ve received word from the mages at Redcliffe that they’re willing to talk as well. No matter what he’s advised, Markus _will_ go for the Templars.”

“Of course. He hero-worships them and they can do no wrong. I think we can probably predict a lot of things he’ll do, even if we’re limited to the most basic of information on him.”

“True.” The spymaster glanced around the room quickly. “Solas has certainly been busy with these wards; no wonder he’s so tired.”

“I’ve told him it’s alright now, but he continues to reinforce them. He’s just worried still, I suppose.”

“I need you to go to Redcliffe,” she said quietly, in case someone might be trying to eavesdrop. “Something is happening there, something big. We need to know what and find a way to help the mages. If they do want an alliance, peace even, they deserve the chance to be heard as much as the Templars.”

“You think it’ll be dangerous.”

“Yes. I know it will. Arl Eamon was forced out, and strange whispers have been reaching my agents near there. I want you and one other person to infiltrate the town and find out what’s happening. Will you go?”

“When do I need to leave?”

“As soon as possible. I don’t know what needs to be done to finish healing you, but no longer than a week. Preferably in just under a week, that way you’ll leave when Markus is distracted with primping himself for the nobles.”

“Who do you want me to take? Charter?”

“Anyone you wish other than Varric. Markus is almost certain to take him along, if only to spite the two of you. You could take Solas.”

“Solas?” Night raised her eyebrows at the suggestion.

“You two have spent a lot of time together recently, and from what I heard of that fight, you two make a good team. The fact that he can heal you certainly helps. Plus, he’s a mage, so he’s likely to slip in largely unnoticed as a straggler fleeing the war. I know you’ll have no trouble disguising yourself, but it’ll be a better cover if you have a mage with you.”

“Alright, I’ll ask him. If he says no, I’ll find someone else or go alone.”

“I will give you someone if he says no, but I very much doubt he will. He seems to have grown quite fond of you,” she said with a small smirk. Had she not considered Night a colleague, an equal, Leliana wouldn’t have given her the option to choose who went with her. She got up to leave. “Update as you can, I’m sure you already know the right codes.” With that, she was gone through the door and Varric was stepping back in, stomping snow from his boots.

“So. What was that all about?”

“You know I can’t tell you.”

“Yeah,” he said with a small sigh. The dwarf shifted around thoughtfully, almost awkwardly. “Will it be dangerous?”

“Yes.” She looked at down at her hands, which were mostly unscarred despite her work. Her body always healed quickly, but a little extra help was always appreciated. “I need to talk to Solas,” she said after a moment.

“He should be by soon; you know the routine.”

“Yes, I do. I’m going to get some sleep, Varric; try not to panic.” Night settled back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling pensively. She needed to ask Purpose and Valor what challenges they gave the elf that he made it through so easily. _There’s something about him, I don’t know. Familiar? Easy? Comfortable?_ She slipped into sleep to peruse her collection for anything on Redcliffe and Grand Enchanter Fiona while she waited for the mage to arrive.


	6. A Secret Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night and Solas leave for their mission and encounter a new companion, who reveals things are far from what they appear to be in Redcliffe.

They slipped into Redcliffe near dusk. Everyone in the town seemed unsettled yet resigned, as if they already knew the Herald wasn’t coming. A current of fear ran under the general atmosphere, and Night listened closely as they moved past the clusters of mages and a few remaining villagers. When they finally made it to the Gull and Lantern, they found it filled with somber patrons. The pair sat in a back corner so Night could more easily watch the people come and go.

“What have you learned,” Solas asked as he returned with pints that neither would really drink.

“Someone named Alexius arrived from Tevinter just before Fiona was to seek out the Herald’s help. He’s a magister, too,” she said, murmuring into the stale ale.

“But we know for a fact she went to Val Royeaux.”

“You felt that as we came in, right? The strange magic?” Night saw his slight nod as she looked around without looking; she noticed a mage with his cowl casually flipped back, inconspicuously pretending to drink his own ale. If his white robes hadn’t been sticking out from under a dark cloak, he might have managed to blend in. His meticulously groomed moustache was also a giveaway that he didn’t quite belong. “An awful lot of Tevinter mages here. I was pretty sure we were still in Fereldan.”

“Agreed. And that man you’re eyeing took a particular interest in me when I was at the bar. Perhaps he has…ideas, being that we are elves.”

“I’m not so sure that’s it.” The man in question stood and wandered over, grinning and staggering like someone starting to feel his drink.

“Hello there,” he said, greeting them with a slight slur. “May I…join you?” Without waiting for a reply, he half-sat on Solas and slouched forward into the table. “Such a lovely couple, where are you two from?”

“Dairsmuid,” Night replied without hesitation.

“I thought the entire Circle was annulled.”

“It was.”

“I see. That’s quite the journey to find refuge.”

“We heard Grand Enchanter Fiona was offering safe harbor in Redcliffe for anyone not looking to make trouble.” Solas scowled and shifted over on the bench to make room.

“Indeed?” The man ruffled his moustache with one hand and sipped his ale. “Mm-and tell me, did the two of you run into anyone interesting on the way here?”

“We came across a lot of interesting people on the way, most of whom we tried to avoid.” The spy noted a few glances cast their way, but for the most part, everyone ignored them. “Someone in particular you’re asking after?”

“I heard strange tales on the way here.” He stopped and took a long pull from the tankard, trying to maintain the façade when a couple of Tevinter-looking heads turned in their direction. “I mean, obviously it’s hard to miss the big, green hole in the sky, but mages and Templars in a full-scale war? I couldn’t believe it until I saw it for myself. Ah, well, the south has always seemed so restless anyway.”

“Have you a point?” Solas’s scowl deepened as the unknown mage tossed an arm around his shoulders companionably.

“You should relax more,” he said quietly, “they’re already suspicious of any stragglers that aren’t one of theirs.”

“And you’re not one of theirs?”

“Am I? Who can say,” he replied. “You know what? I have an idea! Let’s go up to my room and play a round of Wicked Grace! The version where you wager your clothes instead of you coin,” the Tevinter mage added with a wink.

“No.” Solas narrowed his eyes, not trusting the man in the slightest.

“Oh, come, let’s be friends. You’re too stiff. Have another drink!” He got up and made for the second floor.

“Come on, let’s go.” Night stood and jerked her head after the stumbling mage. “We should at least make sure he gets up the steps without breaking his neck.”

“As you wish.” Solas and Night followed the strange Tevinter and “helped” him into his room when he pretended to stumble over nothing.

“Well, now that we’re alone, I can stop pretending I like stale beer.” The mage closed and locked the door. “However, we should still strive to speak in hushed whispers. Anyone could be listening.”

“And you’re not exactly subtle.”

“It’s hard to be subtle when you look this good, my dear.” He let his cloak fall back completely and made a little flourish with one hand as he bowed.

“And who exactly are you?” Solas continued to eye him suspiciously. Night nudged him gently to be nice, but he wouldn’t relent.

“Dorian of House Pavus, formerly of Minrathous, at your service. I’m assuming, from your presence here, that the Herald of Andraste has chosen to investigate first, or is intending to seek an alliance elsewhere. Not that I can particularly blame him. The rebel mages are certainly organized, but they’re just as apprehensive of the noble as he is of them. Perhaps more so.”

“How do you know so much about the Herald?”

“Word travels fast when someone survives a mountain-leveling explosion and walks out of a tear in the veil. Is it true he has some kind of glowing mark that allows him to close the rifts?” Dorian stroked his moustache thoughtfully when Night nodded her head. “And he needs more power in order to close the hole in the sky, correct?” Solas nodded this time. “If he’s not coming, then why are you here?”

“Simply put, we’re not. Not officially, anyway,” Solas said. The elf straightened himself and stood toe to toe with Dorian. “Why are you here, if you’re not one of them?”

“Officially, I’m not.” The Tevinter grinned broadly and shrugged. “My former mentor, Alexius, is here and manipulating things. He swooped in, miraculously saving the southern rebels from the mad Templars.”

“It _was_ rather timely, considering Grand Enchanter Fiona just spoke with the Herald in Val Royeaux.” Night leaned against the wall, watching the mage’s body language. “When did he arrive? And why? Surely helping these people is costly. What is he getting in return?”

“True, it’s extremely costly, but he considers it worth the initial investment. As for what he’s getting in return, an army for his own master, I’m afraid. Fiona has no idea what she’s committed her people to.” Dorian gave Night a very worried look. “None of this is good, none of it bodes well. Alexius went to a great deal of trouble to get here in the nick of time.”

“What do you mean?” Something in his words sent a tingle down Night’s spine, similar to the feeling she had when they entered Redcliffe.

“A theoretical magic we could never get to work when I was studying with him: time manipulation. The rifts near here have shown signs of alteration. Some things slow down and others speed up, all at random. They’re only near here for now, but I expect them to begin appearing further away as things progress. And I know he still expects the Herald to come, because Alexius knows that he needs power. He can provide that power by loaning him the mages he took under his proverbial wing, or at least the illusion of an offer.”

“For a price, of course,” Solas said with a frown. “What does your mentor want with the Herald?”

“Former mentor,” the mage said, placing emphasis on the first word. “He works with a group of cultists these days, someone called the Venatori, and they rather zealously follow some shadowy figure they call the ‘Elder One’. The name itself is such a faux pas, but I’ve seen it stir both fear and inspiration in these people. I believe it’s really this person who wants the Herald, although I can’t tell you why.”

“So what are you proposing?”

“Not all of these people are happy with the ‘arrangement’ their leader has agreed to. Most of them don’t trust Alexius, and with good reason. My original hope was to speak with the Herald and warn him of what’s happening, but since he’s not coming, my hope now is to get as many of these people out of here as possible.” He sighed and shook his head. “You know, it occurs to me that I never got either of your names.”

“You’re not likely to,” Solas replied tartly.

“And here I thought we were becoming such wonderful friends.”

“We still have no reason to trust you. Perhaps you’ve made all of this up and are simply distracting us while your cohorts move into place.”

“You’re an awfully suspicious individual yourself.”

“How so?”

“You shouldn’t sulk so much; it’ll ruin your features.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“You are, a little,” Night interjected. “Regardless,” she continued, cutting him off, “I think we should try to get out the rest of the villagers and any mages that wish to come. We can’t guarantee what kind of welcome they’d receive in Haven, but we have somewhere else for them to go until arrangements can be made to group up with the Inquisition. This is Solas,” she said, gesturing to her companion, “and you may call me Night.”

“Night? Hm, why does that sound so familiar?” Dorian stroked his moustache again thoughtfully. “Ah, well, it’ll come to me eventually. Right now we need to worry about the matter at hand.”

“Fiona is in over her head,” the elven mage said, finally giving up on his objections. “Nightingale seemed interested in trying to get her out if possible, but she may be too close to this Alexius.”

“She is,” Dorian confirmed. “He’s taken her on as his personal help for the moment and is keeping her occupied taking care of his son. However, I don’t think it’s impossible to get her away. Felix is on our side.”

“Our side?”

“He doesn’t like this business his father has gotten mixed up in, and he doesn’t like what’s going on in Redcliffe. We might be able to sneak her away when she’s tending him.” The Tevinter shifted around the room and sat down at the desk. He pulled out a small, leather journal and handed it to Night. “We’ve been keeping tabs on the various goings-on of Alexius and his experiments. I believe that the Breach itself is the only reason he was able to get this to work.”

“I’d have to agree,” Night said quietly after skimming through the information. The older entries dated back to Dorian’s time as the Magister’s apprentice. “Much of this relies on the fluidity of the Raw Fade to function, something that can’t be accessed to the necessary extent without ripping a large enough hole in the veil.”

“There was one time we almost got it to work. We found a place where the Veil was exceptionally weak, but our prodding only resulted in drawing out a powerful demon.”

“Why did you leave,” Solas asked finally.

“We had a bit of a falling out, if you must know.” The Tevinter man frowned sadly. “Years ago, Felix and his mother were traveling, Alexius wasn’t with them, a fact he regrets every day. They were attacked by darkspawn. Felix survived, but not without injury; his mother…didn’t make it. Alexius was grief-stricken and angry. He started pushing harder to make the magic work and became obsessed with the possibility of going back in time and stopping the attack from happening, or at least saving them. We got into many arguments, until, one day, we said things we couldn’t take back.”

“So, Felix really is sick.”

“Yes, my dear, tainted by the Blight, I’m afraid.”

“And there’s no cure, so your former teacher tries to stave it off with magic while he looks for a way to undo the past. Foolish,” the elf added. Night cast a sidelong glance at him, recalling their conversation only a couple of weeks prior about changing the past. He didn’t flinch. “So who all are we trying to save? The Grand Enchanter, who threw away her freedom and that of her people? Or this Felix? Or the innocent mages who want no part of this?”

“We save as many as we can, Solas, and as quietly as possible. Dorian, do you know of any mages who are ready to leave now and can do so discreetly?”

“Yes, a few. I have a contact with them who can start trying to move them out tonight.”

“Good. Leliana arranged a place for them to go where they can be safe, but they’ll have to travel quickly. Tell your contact to take them here,” said the spy-sassin, scribbling down a location and brief directions on a scrap of paper from the desk.

“Are you sure about this,” the mage asked hesitantly. “The last I heard was—“

“If Sister Nightingale says it’s secure for the mages, then it is. She’s one of the few people they will be able to rely on.” Solas sidled closer to Night. “And if we’re going to save Fiona, we need to do so quickly. I doubt two strange elves will go unnoticed for long.”

“I’ve no way to guarantee our safety, but I think we can get in without much trouble. It’ll be getting back out that’s the real trick.”

“Naturally,” Solas said sourly.

“Where shall I meet you?”

“The old windmill,” Night said. “We’ll wait for you, but don’t take too long.”

“Understood. You two are such fun,” Dorian said loudly and a little slurred as he opened the door. “I’m going to go get us some more drinks and maybe a bottle of wine, if they have any. You want some cheese? No? Well, alright.” The mage could be heard stumbling down the hall and creating a buzz, as he demanded more drink for his “lovely, new friends”.

“I don’t trust him.”

“Because you haven’t already made that clear, Solas.” Night pocketed Dorian’s journal and jabbed the elf in the middle of his chest. “Calm yourself. We can trust him.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Now, we need to be gone before he gets back.” She reached for the handle but Solas grabbed her wrist. “What?”

“Night, I’m sorry for being so, you know.”

“Suspicious, distrustful, assuming, and broody?”

“I’m not broody.” He scowled again but realized she was right and chuckled a little. “Fine. I am being a ‘little’ broody, but only because I don’t like this situation. We’re at a severe disadvantage,” he said softly as someone walked past the door. “We have no recourse if something goes wrong, and no one will come for us if we fall.”

“I know. It’s a little exhilarating,” she told him with a wink. “So let’s not fail.”

“Right.” The twinkle of mischief in her eyes at the thought of being on their own surprised Solas, but then he recalled the spy was used to working completely alone. He shook his head and smiled, but didn’t release her wrist immediately. “If we survive, will you answer a question for me?”

“Depends on the question.”

“I can’t ask later?”

“I’d prefer you ask now, so I can tell you if I’ll even be inclined to answer,” Night replied with a smile of her own, which widened at Solas’s hesitation. “Oh, I see. Well, no, I don’t normally do those sorts of things with partners.”

“What?” Startled, he couldn’t stop his face from flushing bright red. “No! No, that’s not what I was going to—“

“Come on!” She stood on her toes and pecked his jawline for one last, breathy laugh before darting into the hallway.

“Fenedhis,” he muttered and followed her. Together, they slipped through the second-floor window into the chill night air and made for the ruined windmill. Leliana gave Night a detailed recounting of how she and the Hero of Fereldan had used the hidden passage to sneak into Redcliffe Castle ten years prior. “Dorian should be here soon.”

“Yes. I’m going to work on getting this clear so we can open it; keep an eye out.”

“Why don’t I do that?”

“Why,” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Uh.” Solas couldn’t think of a reason that didn’t sound patronizing. “Never mind.” He crouched down behind some rubble and watched for movement. “Night,” he said earnestly when he caught a slight movement in the trees. A darkly robed mage sent a shaft of ice at him, but he deflected it back. In the dark, the blood running from the man’s pierced throat looked black. Solas stiffened at the sensation of movement behind him and whirled around in time to watch Night slide another mage to the ground, slipping her dagger from between his ribs. “I guess this means they’re on to us.”

“Not necessarily.”

“What if—“

“What if I tipped them off,” Dorian filled in as he finished reaching the top of the path. “I didn’t, but someone did try to follow me when I left. Had to meander drunkenly halfway through the village before I lost them.”

“These were guards, likely just in the right place at the right time.”

“Agreed. So, what next?”

“Next, we go through there.” Night walked over to the trap door and lifted it easily now that it was free of debris.

“Wonderful,” said the Tevinter with a grimace. “It looks so cozy and inviting, I just can’t wait to go down.”

“Then you can go first,” Solas said flatly. Dorian glared but shimmied down the ladder and into the stone passage below.

“Let’s travel as soundlessly as possible.” Night guided them through the dimly lit tunnel and into the dungeons. Surprisingly, they encountered no one save a few rotten corpses that didn’t stir behind their cell doors. She noticed a glimmer of red poking out of a few. “Fenedhis, there’s red lyrium here.”

“What?” Dorian moved closer to one of the cells to inspect the glowing points. “That’s definitely not good. Time magic and red lyrium. Alexius is in deep,” he added, shaking his head. “We need to hurry. Felix said he’s been in Connor’s old room.”

“The Arl’s son? Did you notice if he’s here, too?”

“Yes, dear, and he’s one of the mages trying to slip out. Unfortunately, he may be too high-profile to get away.”

“If he leaves with the others, he may get them caught,” Solas added.

“Connor knows, and he won’t risk endangering them, especially the ones who want no part of what’s going on. He’ll try to leave another way.”

“Sh.” Night pressed her ear to the stairwell door; there was no movement on the other side. “Alright, now I’m definitely suspicious. There should be guards, at least.” Suddenly, the air in the dungeon behind them ripped open, the edges of the space crackling and glowing bright green.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” Dorian readied a ball of fire as the first wisps appeared. A Rage demon batted the spell back before it could hit them and roared, sending a gout of flame towards them.

“Move,” Solas shouted, and Dorian ducked out of the way as best he could in the limited space. The elf hit the demon with a wall of ice, doing damage but not killing it. “Since we can’t close the rift, we need to get out of here, Night.”

“If we do that, they’ll just come after us and attract attention. I’ve got this.”

“What do you mean you’ve got this?”

“Just trust me, Solas.” As Night pulled out her daggers, a coating of lightning sheathed each blade. Her golden eyes glowed brightly in the dim dungeon next to the two men, and then she wasn’t there. Solas was barely able to detect the golden trail of magic following her afterimage as the spy-sassin danced from one opponent to the next. When she finally came to a stop, Night was barely breathing hard and the demons behind her quickly disintegrated back into the rift. “Now it’s time to go, before the next wave.” The trio jumped through the door and shut it tightly behind them, hoping the demons beginning to materialize on the other side wouldn’t follow.

“That was…amazing,” Dorian said, looking at her with new respect. “How did you do that?”

“Maybe now isn’t the best time for questions.” She pointed up the stairs behind him as a pair of mages stopped in surprise halfway down the stairs. Their hesitation cost them their lives. “Connor’s room should be on the top floor.” They slipped quietly through the Castle, avoiding detection and seeing very few people.

“Where is everyone,” mouthed the Tevinter after a while. Almost to their destination, he slipped ahead of them and tapped gently on the heavy wood door. It cracked open and Dorian disappeared into the room. Night moved close enough to hear some quiet arguing between the mage and someone else.

“We’ve been made,” she said to Solas. “Or he has.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Finish the mission. Wait here, I’ll grab Fiona.” Night leapt through the door and scanned the room quickly for the Grand Enchanter, who was standing fearfully behind an elderly man in Tevinter robes.

“I’m sorry, Dorian; he found one of our notes.” A sickly-looking young man sat on the edge of the bed, clearly in pain.

“I see you brought company; how unfortunate for her. Why won’t you accept my offer, Dorian? You’ve always had such potential.” He clutched a strange amulet in one hand and gestured unhappily with the other. “We could be great together! We could serve a _living god_ , one who will not forget his followers when the time comes.”

“This is ridiculous, Alexius. And horrible! How could you serve someone so deluded as to think they’re a god?”

“You don’t understand. He—he can save Felix.”

“Father, please.” Felix tried to stand and stop his father, who was already conjuring magic around the amulet.

“Alexius, no!” A swirling, green-and-black hole appeared in front of Dorian and Night, sucking them in before they could move away. It felt like falling, being yanked forward, and tearing apart at the seams all at the same time. When the mix of feelings finally stopped, they were on their hands and knees in a foot of water, surrounded by stone and iron bars. “Oh, that was terribly unpleasant,” Dorian said as he stood up and rubbed his head. They both looked around the room; red lyrium crystals jutted out of the floor and walls. Some towered over them, while others weren’t even knee-high. “This place seems familiar, but also not. I think…I think we’re in Redcliffe Castle, in the dungeon. But it shouldn’t look like this. Oh, shit,” the mage said nervously.

“What?” The spy-sassin waded through the water towards the cell door.

“Remember that black hole Alexius sent us through?”

“Distinctly,” Night said with a glower.

“I don’t think we’re in our own time anymore. In fact, I’m certain of it.”

“Shit,” she said after looking around more carefully. “Then ‘when’ are we?”

“Only one way to find out.” They shifted their stances and readied themselves as a pair of guards came rushing towards them.


End file.
